The End of 65
by Ravenclawsome
Summary: The end of Finnick's experience in the 65th Hunger Games and what comes after it. This started off as a headcannon request on my Facebook page, and is written from his POV.
1. The Beginning of the End

The swamp is still. Picturesque, I suppose you could call it, if you didn't know about the horrors that it could bring. Normally brimming with life, now it is silent, not a leaf rustling, not a bird calling, not a patch of mud bubbling. Today will be the day, I know it. I grip my trident and net harder in anticipation of battle.

Gemma, the stunning District Two girl who has been my ally for the past three weeks, breaks the silence. "Finn, we haven't seen them for hours. I think we should go hunting and get this over with."

I glance over at her. She's tired, I can tell, mud caking her beautiful face and rips decorating her clothes. "Sure, let's go." She smiles gratefully at me, flashing her white teeth. I really hope I don't have to kill her.

We abandon our hiding place and stalk through the swamp as silently as we could, looking out for our opponents, the remnants of our allegiance. As we walk, I see places we have passed before, each bringing on a wave of memories. The rock where I killed off the District 9 tributes, my first kill. The island where we used to camp, where I received the trident. The tree under which I tested out my new weapon and the net I wove, murdering a pair of 13 year olds from 3. The creek which a monster rose from and murdered both my older sister and the girl from District one. At that, tears threaten to overtake me, but I swallow hard. I must not betray any emotion in the depths of hell.

From behind me comes a faint snap. I whirl around, just in time to see Gemma snared by the leg, blood gushing out from the wound. "Finn!" she cries out, disturbing the silence. I rush to her side, heart thudding painfully in my chest. I know that the best I can do for her is make her death quick, because if the others found us here like this, who knows what they would do to her?

With a sick, twisted feeling inside, I realize what I must do. "Gemma, do you trust me?"

"Y-yes," she says, her voice shaking.

"Good. I'm going to try to get you out. Don't move." I hear distant voices, coming closer, taking their time. Bile rises in my throat.

I pretend to try to release her for the audience's sake, but instead I am moving the snare so that it cuts into her skin, digs down into her flesh. More blood squirts out. She tries to scream but only a soft moan escapes her. Their voices come closer. I move faster. They can't catch her. I can't let that happen. I can't.

"Finn." Her voice is suddenly, clear, sharp despite her pain, her ragged breaths. I stop and stare into her deep brown eyes.

"Win for me, okay?" She reaches a hand out and I take it with both of mines. "Promise me you will."

"I-I will."

"Good." A grin from nowhere spreads across her face, lighting up her features for a brief second before her eyes glaze over and she crumples to the ground.


	2. The End

My heart races so fast that I barely hear the cannon sound. I inhale the muggy swamp air. I exhale. Focus, Finnick. It's going to be a three-on-one and if you're not ready... I shudder and close my eyes. I can't let Gemma haunt me, at least, not right now.

A harsh voice pierces into my mind. "Well, well well." I look up. The speaker is Pollux, Gemma's district partner, a bulky boy of 18. He kicks her blood-covered body and nods in satisfaction. "Looks like Victoria's trap worked a bit better than intended." Heat floods my face. I want to run at him, to do unspeakable things to him, but I don't, knowing that it will just end end in my death. I have to wait.

The only girl in their trio, Victoria, runs over and pins me to the tree. My trident drops to the ground. "Ooh, is wee ickwle Finny upset about his wittle fwiend's death?" she coos, earning a laugh from the group. Her golden hair brushes my face. I want to smack her. "I guess he knows that he's just too twiny to pway with the bwig kids!" I grip my weapon harder. Patience or death. Patience or death. She pulls out her knife, a maniac's grin spreading across her face. "But the big kids like playing with him."

She inches the knife closer and closer, with deliberate slowness, her hard, beady eyes boring into mines. It's two inches away. Then one. The point pokes into the tip of my forehead. I take a deep breath.

It's my time to act.

Before she realizes what is happening, I kick her as hard as I can in the shin. She screams and staggers back, more from shock than pain. I leap forward and begin to punch her, harder and harder, shaking off Pollux and the male from 2 as they try to separate us. She collapses and I kick her, every place I can reach. It's cowardly, but I know if I don't kill her, she'll murder me without a second thought. My foot collides with her ribs, her head, her face, her stomach. She begins to cough up blood. I kick harder. Without a warning, she goes limp and the cannon sounds. I dodge a blow from Pollux as I scramble over to my trident and pick it up. The boy from 2 manages to grab a hold of my right arm. With no hesitation, I turn and skewer him through the stomach, knowing that he was a goner even before his cannon sounded. Panting, I turn around to find Pollux staring at me.

"For a child, you have strength," he says, contemplating my face, probably wondering where his spear should go through. I grin grimly at him.

"For a man, you suck at fighting," I respond.

He lunges at me without a warning. I dodge. I throw in a jab with the trident. He dodges. We parry back and forth, each of us landing blows, not too major, but blows nonetheless. The fighting grows more and more intense. His ear is cleaved off by a stab by my trident. My side is pierced by his spear. I manage to take out his eye, he spears me in the arm. I roar with pain at this, and aim at his in turn. He blocks me to find, too late, that it was a feint. My trident hits him in the leg and Pollux, brutal Pollux, goes down.

He tries to drag me down with him, but he's lost so much more blood than me that the only thing that happens is that his spear is lost from his grip, sliding under the shallow, bloodstained water that we've fought our way into. He tries to lift himself up, his eyes boring into mine, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. It's over, we both know it. I slide my trident into his head, and as the cannon sounds, I sink to my knees, a kind of buzzing filling my knees. It's over.

It's finally over. 


End file.
